This
morning, I woke, to an old dog urgently needing to go out. I stumbled her to
the door, put her on a rope just for laziness’s sake, as the part of my book
that was writing itself last night ,as I went to bed ,took up with itself, in
my head, happily : once again.
There had been a childhood best friend of the protagonist’s,
Lilah, who as I was falling asleep, became Lilith.
I tried and tried to shut my mind off, and finally was able to
fall asleep, only asking myself to remember all of this part of the story when
I awoke. And I did.
After all the dogs and some of the cats and I settled back into
bed this morning, around 6:30, pretending, or at least I was, that I was
falling back asleep until I had to get up to drive K, Who is already up,
showered, coffee, and studying upstairs.
But the animals were restless this morning, the small feral really
wanted to be under the covers being attended to, and so the story woke up
again, and began wandering along, like a small persistent stream.
Now,
I know how a painting whispers when it is ready to come out. How you approach
the canvas, or the pastel paper, the watercolor paper, or the sketchbook, to
discover and relieve who is knocking upon the door. And as you begin to use
what materials you are, out comes the
subject matter, as if you are gently moving photograph paper beneath the
developer waters, and watching, as the image slowly appears. I have watched
that happen my entire life, as many of us have.
I am acquainted with the itch and sting
and urge a poem makes, inside of you, letting you know with the pressure
building, that you need to pull over, or jot down a note, or excuse yourself,
and go relieve yourself of that which must be relieved. The editing process is
different, as with visual arts: and it brings forth another part of you, not
analytical or cryptic, but simply a different intuitive part that feels deeply
when the wording is off; when the movement of the song of the poem is not quite
right. And if you have the energy and persist, you continue on as if gently
adjusting a puzzle, with so many similar shapes that many will actually fit
that one space, but only one or two will slip into place, and then you feel
…sublime.
Writing a song on your guitar is a cousin of the process. The
song is nimble, within you, stretching and wakening, the small snippets of tune
coming forth- then repeating, and growing into a refrain that moves and cements
the union, with the stanzas taking your hand, at the first off, leading you on-
whether you choose to go , or not- and then dropping you off at the drop off.
To stand, struck, and then ache to begin to hold hands, and travel the small
path all over again. That is the writing of a song, to me, words and chords and
melody and pull.
Vignettes are different, also. And
something new to me, of the last few years. Where you have an experience,
usually a quite small one. And in the experience, you notice quite small
aspects. So tiny. So quiet as to almost pass unnoticed. But somehow, you notice,
and begin a conversation with them. The spider. The cloud. The passage of
seasons in a certain place, over and over, with increasing emotional closeness
and response. The wind in the trees, and the song of those trees – that varies
according to leaves present, or no leaves; to spring new leaf song, or summer
full mature leaf song. To fall crisp leaf song, or to winter, no leaf song,
save the reticent Oak and Beech, who retain their leaves, actually for
important health reasons. The Pine song, of course, which, from childhood, and
their loyalty to my self and my siblings, which strikes me deeply each and
every time.
So to listen to something new was quite a
surprise. And of course, I am no spring chicken. I know that when something
like a novel begins to sprout small tender leaves, and grow small white lines
of rootlings, it is a careful thing to care for. And watch, with wonder, the
proverbial acorn, only new, to me.
So I realized this was a novel, and had no
idea why or how it was coming about. What had initiated it. But then, why would
I know? Or anticipate? Or plan? Nothing else I had ever created had been
involved in any of those conscious choices whatsoever.
And anyone understands that to mess with
it, when one operates in this fashion- to impose order too soon, when the small
thing is in the process of discovering what sort of small thing it might be, is
not helpful at all. So I have simply been watching and gently waiting and
trying to cooperate, when I am able.
And slowly the protagonist was revealed.
Great surprise to me. And gradually, on successive days, various neighborhood
characters and their histories and characteristics and present day
circumstances became clear. An outline of the situation, you may say.
And last night, as I intended to fall
asleep, I did impose some order upon this rendering, simply telling myself
please to make an effort to remember this portion, as it was in my best self
interest to think of nothing in particular, and fall and achieve a good and
restorative sleep. And so I did, and yes, I remembered somehow and clearly when
I woke this morning.
Of course, aside from the new character’s
names and homes and characteristics and story line that revealed itself to me,
helter skelter, I did have some questions about the name Lilith, as it rang
some bells somewhere in my memory of historical/religious origins.
So I did surrender to the flitting,
bouncing creatures, and before brushing teeth and feeding everyone and getting
dressed and all sorts of logical first of the morning things to do, I did
finally
give in, grabbing my phone on the other side of my bureau (always 3 feet away
from us or more) (mine actually sleeps in the bathroom, turned off.).
And discovered or maybe was reminded of some interesting things.
In Judaic history, Lilith was originally a demon. A magical
creature.
But eventually, somehow, she became, in the Garden of Eden,
Adam's first wife. Now, I had recalled that the guy had two wives. Did you? So,
listen to this!
She was made out of the same earth that Adam was. Not his rib. And
she refused to be subservient to him, and was tossed out of the garden. Say
“Thankyou, Wikipedia.” And off things went, from there.
I'm picturing her now, kind of as if two parents had arranged a marriage,
and then were unhappy with the wife they had given their son, and tossed her
away.
I can see Lilith throwing back her hair, shaking it off, and stalking
away with a good grin on her face. Saying to herself "Well that was the
biggest bunch of crap I ever seen!" And going off, and making a pretty
cool life.
Maybe she came around every once in a while, because in those days
there were no other people.Or talking creatures. Kind of lonely, though I get
the sense that she may have had some foresight as to how things would unfold,
you know?
Maybe she saw God ( originally not delineated as male or white or
with beards and white robes and all) try again , by grabbing that rib
,out of Adam-ouch!
And fashion a whole person. Thinking that maybe if Eve was
made out of the guy, maybe she would be obedient . Pliant. Good in bed.
Functional in that nice no-problems way.
Hey, maybe Lilith was watching, when Eve got a mind of her own,
despite not being created of the same earth as Adam.
Adam seems a little slow in the story, you know what I mean? He's
always like "Well, Eve, I don't know, what do you think?"
I mean, it probably was fun. Naked all the time feels great.
They were safe, all the creatures in the garden, food everywhere. Life was
good. , We know humans. Better than God obviously. Too much. Too fast. Too
easy. Too boring. Just wasn't going to last.
So I'm just picturing Lilith there, on the
edge of the clearing, coming by, looking into the garden she was expelled from,
just watching, ion between going about
her own survival in her life.
And then one day, she sees
Eve is getting pretty itchy and twitchy. When she hears all about the story
about "Anything but that tree!”
And she knows that snake. She likes that
snake. But man, that snake is the devil’s advocate, if you ever met one.
So one morning, Adam and Eve wake up, and everything is sweet
and nice, and Adam is still placid as
can be, and will always be ,if he was in that garden forever and ever ,only
with even all the plants and the easy picking.
And Eve? No way. Getting all itchy. So there she is going around
the garden, doing morning things, and comes upon the serpent, the long green
and golden creature. Who talks. Mind you. Because no one else does.
Maybe that serpent is getting a little itchy too, you know?
Winding around apple trees all day, eating stuff, lying in the sun. You really
couldn't ask for better. But you could ask for a little more interesting.
So Adam is lolling about, perfectly happy. Lilith is hanging on
the edge of the garden, watching with interest, a little bit of a voyeur, but a
little bit hopeful also, that maybe
someday she'll have more friends to talk
to.
The plot thickens. I know. Whatta line.
The serpent’s had time to think this over, ever since the whole
creation-thing-in-the-beginning-thing with Adam, and then Lilith created out of the dirt, the
littlest failure with the subservience thing, tossed out on her lonesome, and
then Eve ripped out of the rib-ouch-thing.
Carefully the serpent, who really deserves a name in the story,
but I think has none, slides itself up the truunk of the fertile,heavy with
fruit apple tree, rests their beautiful golden and green head next to the
juiciest reddest apple hanging there perfectly, for all of eternity. Just
hanging there.
And what do you know! Along comes Eve,
itchy and prickly, and not sure why.
With the Adam over there, always seeming so complacent and happy to sit there.
I mean, hand him a beer and a wide screen plasma and he's all set.
And then, it happens. Eve turns the corner on the perfect garden path, that never prickles your
feet and is never too hot or rough or cold, and there is the serpent, somebody
interesting to talk to : and there is the Apple.
The serpent, of course, waggles their
eyebrows. (I know. You didn't know serpents had eyebrows. Think Groucho
Marx.).
He’s pretty sharp. She gets it. She knows the consequences. She
knows it's not fair to make a unilateral decision either. But, you know, every
day, Adam seems more distant and clueless. I mean, what can she really DO?
So she reaches out and she grabs at the apple.
While the serpent is deliciously watching, smiling, she raises it to her lips.
She takes a small bite.
"Wow!" She says "I bet this
is going to get us into a whole heck of a lot of trouble. But you know? I'm
kind of tired of the status quo here. I just have this feeling deep inside of
me that there's more to life than this, you know? For you too, serpent."
See? She didn’t even know the serpent’s name, either.
"I was thinking the very same thing. Good going, Eve. Let's see
what happens." sighs the serpent,
As Eve turns tail, apple in hand, a little finger wave goodbye to
the serpent, and toddles off to find Adam, just to see if he wants out - too.
Adam’s all like "Wow, Eve. Really? Wow. I just don't
know."
Eve is like " Man, I can't believe I was made from your rib.
"
Adam flinches, spits out "Okay, Okay. I can stand on my own, too.
Hand over that apple!"
So she laughs, and hands it to him. Only half of it is left.
He says "Wow, there are seeds on the inside. Pretty
interesting. "
And he takes a small bite, munching, smile on his face, and he
begins to awaken.
He begins to look all around. He moves from his slouching posture,
sits up, stands up, and begins to look around.
“Hey, Eve” he murmurs, eyeing her. “Why on
earth are we naked? I mean, dude!”
And she laughs, says “Hey, here you are!
I knew there was more to you than shallow crap and that nowhere look on your
face. But HEY! Is All-That-Is gonna be pissed, you know? Remember, this is the
Old Testament and a whole lotta other human stuff. You ready, my man?”
And he wakes up even more, looking around,
truly seeing for the first time. He takes her hand, steps toward the edge of
the garden, and calls “Hey you beautiful serpent. You coming? And hey, what’s
your name?” As Eve smiles, knowing things are gonna be tough. They’re gonna be
hard sometimes, and things will happen. She knows it’s no Disney movie, that
things aren’t fair. That illness and circumstance and choices happen. And that
she and Lilith and Serpent and Adam all are going to have to find their own
ways.
But hey, she was itchy. She was wondering.
She was slowly awakening.
The garden never would have worked. So
some will say it was sin, and the first sin and all. Who cares, she asks
herself, taking Adam’s hand, and smiling to the beautiful serpent, who truly is
simply a creature. Who spoke. And thought about stuff with her, when Adam was
all drugged up with Garden stuff.
They wander toward the edge of the garden,
knowing. Just knowing. That it will sometimes be tough. That they need to stick
together. That illness and other crap will happen. That things will sometimes
be confusing, but that they will enter the land of conscious awareness. And
that is worth anything…at all.
